


It had to be you

by obscureshipyard



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ...kind of, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Demon/Human Relationships, M/M, Missing Scene, Self-Esteem Issues, plot if you squint, you can't prove it didn't happen this way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:08:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24313294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obscureshipyard/pseuds/obscureshipyard
Summary: Thoros is a young man, a Red Priest in Myr, drinking and whoring his way to an early grave. It all changes one night with the appearance of a messenger from the Lord of Light. This mysterious creature, who takes on the form of Beric Dondarrion, tells him that he needs to take the mission to go to Westeros... and then they get up to more than just talking.
Relationships: Beric Dondarrion/Thoros of Myr
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	It had to be you

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to TemptedForTea for the editing!
> 
> _______________
> 
> High Valyrian Translation:  
> Kirimvose - Thank you

Thoros stumbled out of the tavern, and into the night. The uneven cobblestone beneath his feet caught his toe, as it often did, and sent him headfirst into a body standing in the shadows.

“Kirimvose.” Thoros slurred. He patted the strong chest as the stranger moved to right the drunken man back on his feet.

“No trouble at all, Thoros.” The voice was sweet, but unfamiliar, speaking the common tongue of Westeros. It took a moment for Thoros to find the words he rarely used, except to trade tales with traveling common folk and delightful pirates.

“We know each other?” Thoros took a step back and peered into the darkness. Without looking down, his hand felt for the knife at his belt, but he didn’t draw.

The stranger was not of Myr, given his words, and his look. His clothes appeared drab, finely made, but exceedingly conservative. A high collar was stitched with white bolts of lightning that stood out from the dark fabric. A broad sword was strapped to his slender waist, but Thoros could see the man’s hands resting calmly at his sides. “Do I owe you money or something?”

"You do not owe me money.” The man paused letting Thoros’s imagination fill the silence. “But we must talk." The words rolled smoothly from his mouth. Thoros watched with interest as pink lips formed each syllable.

"I don't like talking-- much prefer singing, and drinking, and fucking." He winked and smiled a toothy grin. Usually the sight of his gapped teeth accompanied by rum-scented breath had people recoiling. But the stranger stood still, watching him with blue eyes that seemed to glow from within. "So, what? You one of the High Priests' henchmen? Another one coming to scare me straight?" Thoros was proud of himself for only slurring a little. He let his eyes roam freely and obviously over the other man.

“The one who sent me was no man.” The stranger watched Thoros without blinking. It stirred fear inside the priest but sparked just the slightest ember of arousal. It nearly made Thoros chuckle at his own self-destructive tendencies. But, he excused himself on this account, as the stranger had a nice face, young, and handsome. He watched Thoros closely, as if searching for something. It made Thoros want to squirm.

“Fine, fine, what _woman_ sent you?” Thoros kept his tone light even as adrenaline helped his wits sharpen. He could tell that this was not a normal man. Thoros met many strange men as they were traveling through Essos. He found them just as despicable and redeemable as any man of Myr. But this one felt truly alien.

Thoros did his best to keep his face lax with a drunken smile. He exaggerated his saunter to lower the stranger’s guard and walked down the alley. He had gotten to the empty street without issue, but suddenly a body was standing before him that had not been there a moment before.

“I am no henchman. I am a messenger from R’hllor. I take the form of a man, Beric Dondarrion, to bring the message that you, Thoros of Myr, are God’s chosen to go to Westeros.” The stranger grabbed Thoros’s arm. The touch burned like wildfire, but it was the sudden blinding light that had Thoros screaming.

Before the reverberation of his cry died in his throat Thoros found they were no longer in the alley, or in the street. They were in his single-cell chamber in the temple, standing at the foot of his small bed. His stomach roiled but he held back the vomit.

“I’m sorry, but you were going to run. We are not done.” The stranger, Beric, stood calmly before him still holding tightly onto his arm. Beric’s clothes had changed, now he wore only a loose white tunic with its ties undone and tightfitting pants made from a soft looking cloth. The warm light of the candles burning in Thoros’s chambers complimented his sun-kissed skin and dirty blond hair. “You thought I was overdressed.” Beric’s smile was positively devilish as he watched Thoros take in his new attire.

“How did you--” Thoros couldn’t bring himself to finish the question. “Right, messenger from the Lord. Well, you look like some twat from Westeros. You speak like one, too.” Thoros found his tongue to be the only weapon left in his arsenal. _After all, what was steel against a being of such strange power?_

“It is a look you should become familiar with.” Beric released Thoros’s arm in favor of touching the exposed skin of Thoros’s neck, just under his chin. “I dare say you’ve already taken a liking to it.” The priest reeled back from the touch of flesh on flesh. The feel of Beric’s fingertips still burned like fire. It was then Thoros realized that his own clothing had changed. His skin felt cleaner than it had in days, and he was stripped down to his small clothes, with only a pair of short pants to cover him.

Beric watched him like a hungry predator. With each step back, Beric advanced. “Didn’t you say we needed to speak?” Thoros felt his back press against the door. Beric was mere inches away but stilled his advance. A pink tongue peeked out to lick across Beric’s lips. Thoros couldn't stop his eyes from watching, his own mouth falling open just slightly. His breathing became shallow and his skin prickled in the night air.

“We will speak… _after._ I much prefer your thoughts on what we should do together.” His voice was low, a whisper that had Thoros leaning forward to hear. Beric took advantage of that closeness to lean forward himself and capture Thoros’s mouth in a searing kiss. He stood still and let Thoros pull him forward.

The red priest’s hands reached out to pull Beric close. The burn set his body ablaze with hunger for more. Beric braced his hands on the door but Thoros wanted them on his body. He bit at those pink lips that had tempted him so awfully.

“Patience, my love. If you want me, you will have me.” Beric purred as he kissed and licked his way down Thoros’s neck, and to his chest. Thoros reached down and pulled off Beric’s shirt as Beric lowered to his knees.

Warm hands made quick work of removing Thoros’s pants, revealing the thickening cock beneath. Beric wasted no time taking it into his mouth. The heat was overpowering as Beric sucked him. Thoros moaned and did his best to stay standing on shaking legs.

“Shhhh, wouldn’t want to wake anyone.” Beric chuckled as he moved down to gently suckle at the sack nestled in red curls at the base of Thoros’s leaking cock. His one hand stroked slowly on Thoros’s shaft as the other moved to tease over the sensitive flesh of his perineum.

Thoros put his hand to his mouth to keep from crying out. Beric was right, there were a number of cells on this side of the temple in which his fellow priests slept. No doubt his howling would bring someone knocking. Thoros was always careful to do his whoring in the city rather than the temple. He wasn’t on the high priest's good side on the best of days, and he doubted having a strange man who claimed to be a messenger from the Lord of Light found naked in his room would improve the situation.

Beric was not helping. His wet mouth returned to the head of Thoros’s cock to torment him as a single finger wet with spit gently entered his hole. Thoros’s knees buckled. Beric moved so quickly it defied human perception. He picked Thoros up by the waist and tossed him down on the bed.

Thoros was still gasping for air by the time his body registered the change in position. He looked up to see Beric towering over him. His body was lean, now completely nude. His cock stood strong and thick, promising a fulfillment of the hunger in Beric’s gaze.

Beric held out his hand and Thoros saw the vial of oil he kept beneath the mattress clutched by his strong fingers. Thoros swallowed and nodded his head slowly. Beric smiled, lowering himself down to the bed.

Warm kisses teased along the inside of Thoros’s thigh as oiled fingers opened him up. Beric moved up to nip at Thoros’s hard, pink nipples. Thoros was squirming for more by the time Beric had three fingers inside.

“Oh, God!” Thoros whimpered as Beric’s fingers massaged his prostate. The touch was firm and unrelenting.

“I’ll have you worshiping Him yet.” Beric slowly withdrew. He pulled Thoros’s thighs up around his waist. He leaned down and took Thoros’s mouth in a deep kiss. Thoros moaned into his mouth, reaching down to line Beric’s cock up with his needy hole.

The priest couldn’t force his mouth to form words as Beric entered him. His fingers dug into the strong muscle of Beric’s back as the man made gentle love to him. Thoros had never felt loved when fucking. His partners never cared for him, neither did he for them. But Beric kissed him and moved slowly. Beric held him tightly and moved in response to each twitch of muscle or catch of breath from his lover.

Thoros lost all sense of time as waves of pleasure covered him. He was drowning, but he was burning. Flames danced behind his eyes and there was Beric, wreathed in flame pulling him across the sea. Dragonfire, wildfire, the world was burning around him with every color of flame.

 _Thoros,_ the flames called to him. And it was Beric, bringing him to a climax of soul and body. Thoros exploded in his lover’s arms. He felt heat and love fill his body. The light slowly died around him and the room sank into darkness.

__________________

Thoros had no idea if it had been minutes or hours but the gentle stroking of fingertips over his collarbone brought him back to consciousness. Memories filled in quickly and Thoros’s well-used body reminded him that it had not been a dream.

“Beric?” He moved a heavy arm to wrap around the shoulders of the man pressed against his side.

“Yes, Thoros?” He felt so warm.

“Are you still a messenger from the Lord of Light?” Thoros didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t want to see, only feel.

“Yes, Thoros.” Beric kissed along Thoros’s chest until he reached the very middle of his sternum. They lay for long minutes in the silence of the room. The sun was threatening to lighten the sky. Parts of Thoros’s heart wished for the night to never end. But more of him wanted answers. He stroked a hand through Beric’s tangled hair until he could no longer hold back the words.

"So, suppose this is all real-- why did He send you? Why didn't He, in all his eternal wisdom, just talk to me like he seems to do to everyone else? _Visions in the flames,_ and all that nonsense.” Thoros let his disgust sound clearly in his words.

"When was the last time you looked into the fire and let it look back into you?" Beric said. There was no venom in his words, no haughty offence at Thoros’s heresy. "I suppose He thought you needed a better sign. Aren't I better?” Beric turned and placed his chin on Thoros’s chest. It made the priest smile as he looked down at his strange lover.

“You’re better.” He tried to memorize the lines around his eyes, the way his nose sloped up to his forehead.

“He doesn’t need you because you’re a true believer. You’re the man for the job. _You_ must be the one to travel west.” Beric spoke with conviction. Thoros always hated people who were so certain of themselves.

"Why me? I can't convert a king." He knew of the mission Beric wanted him to take. The High priest had been looking for weeks for someone foolish enough to travel to Westeros to bring the word of the one true god, R’hllor, the Lord of Light, and pull the Seven Kingdoms out of darkness. It was a death sentence at worst, exile at best.

"He didn't ask you to convert a king." Beric put his hand at Thoros’s chin and forced him to meet his eyes. Those eyes still glowed. "He didn't ask you to give up drinking, or whoring, or even to be a true believer. He is asking you to go to Westeros." Thoros felt his conviction slipping.

“Why not someone else? Someone better?” A pitying smile graced Beric's kiss-swollen lips, lips he used to kiss Thoros softly. _Witch_ Thoros wanted to accuse, because with just one kiss he felt every fear slip away. His eyelids became heavy, and his body demanded sleep.

“There is no one better. It is you, Thoros. It has to be you.” With each sentence he spoke, there was another kiss, sweet, and filled with so much love. “Will you go?” There was a long silence between them. Thoros didn’t feel pressured, he just felt warm.

“I’ll go.” He yawned. His eyes could no longer stay open. His weakened arms did their best to hold Beric close. “Will you be with me?”

“Yes,” Beric kissed Thoros’s brow. “You won’t remember this face, but I will be with you.” Thoros sank into sleep. The sun lightened the sky to a pale blue as Beric faded with the shadows of the night.


End file.
